


The Problem

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: Ficlets [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, reckless Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: The problem with Jaskier— well, there were many problems with Jaskier, but the most prominent—was that he was always getting into trouble.Jaskier was reckless, ridiculous. Geralt was going to kill him one day if some cutthroat with a grudge to settle didn’t do it first.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774918
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	The Problem

The problem with Jaskier— well, there were _many_ problems with Jaskier, but the most _prominent_ —was that he was always getting into trouble.

First, it was his cock. Jaskier followed whatever whim it had, with little regard for the consequences. After Geralt had found him a much better use for it, the problem became his complete ignorance of personal limitations and safety.

And also, the fact that people _remembered_ his cock, and weren’t often particularly happy about it.

There was no convincing Jaskier that he had all the survival skills of a trout on a riverbank. “I traveled alone for years before I met you, Geralt,” he would say, “and then years after, until you got your head out of your ass. I was just fine.”

Except that he _hadn’t_ been ‘just fine,’ he’d been regularly bruised from the scuffles he got into without Geralt to drag him back by the scruff, and that had been _before_ traveling with a Witcher, who not only attracted danger but sought it out.

Just the week before, Jaskier had attempted to ‘assist’ Geralt with a kill by throwing _rocks_ at the creature. And not even large, useful rocks, but irritating little pebbles that struck Geralt as often as they struck the beast.

Jaskier was reckless, ridiculous. Geralt was going to kill him one day if some cutthroat with a grudge to settle didn’t do it first.

“You fuss too much,” Jaskier complained as Geralt poked and prodded at his injuries. “You’re like a mother hen.”

Then _Jaskier_ was like a child, stupid and clumsy, always getting into scrapes. Geralt kept those words to himself, wrapping the bandage just a bit tighter around Jaskier’s arm. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but enough to make the man uncomfortable, with any luck.

“You,” Geralt growled, shoving Jaskier closer to the fire, “are going to get us both killed one day.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, settling down on his bedroll, warming himself, preening like a proud rooster when he caught Geralt’s eye. “Honestly, Geralt, if a man of my means could take you down, one would have done it by now.”

Geralt scoffed. Any man could get lucky, and any Witcher could get _un_ lucky. And if Jaskier had been taken out first, Geralt could not speak to what his response would be. He settled cross-legged onto his own bedroll, prodding at the embers with a stick to coax out another burst of flame. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him, _always_ on him nowadays.

After a few moments of Geralt cursing over the fire, a heavy weight dropped into his lap, nearly toppling him over. Jaskier stared him down from astride his thighs, cupping Geralt’s face in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I did not die today.”

“You could have.”

“But I didn’t.” Jaskier placed a kiss on his nose, a habit that would never die no matter how clearly Geralt hated it.

“I will not always be there to protect you. You are…” Geralt swallowed, words thick in his chest, a struggle to force out into open air. “You are important, Jaskier. But you can never come first.”

“I know that,” Jaskier said, his tone soft, and soothing. He pressed his forehead to Geralt’s flooding his senses, the sight of him, the _scent_ of him, sprigs of lavender and the iron of blood. “So maybe it’s time you taught me how to take care of myself.”

Geralt swallowed, hands coming up to grip Jaskier’s hips. “I could do that.”

Jaskier kissed him. He tasted like copper.


End file.
